milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Steph's in the Bar again, sprawled across a couch, reading.

It's a book on Arthurian History, and her eyes are a little glazed, but she's determined to get through it.

Don't ask why.

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"With swift enough care, it's possible to survive the loss of a leg. But of course, you can never work again. And if you don't seek care, even slight wounds can kill."

He's thinking of Gaheris, whose wound really hadn't been very bad.

"Mmm," Steph says. "Yeah, we're ... a little more advanced than you guys, I think."

A little.

"How would it be done in your time, then?"

Lest it seem the narration has forgotten about Carney, not at all. He's there, watchful as ever.

"With - drugs and stuff. Antibiotics. And if someone loses a leg, they get prosthetics, so they can still be almost as good as before. Hardly anyone dies, unless they're really badly hurt, like I was."

"..antibiotics? Prosthetics?"

These words are unfamiliar.

Difficult to explain, too - Steph never even finished high school, she's no doctor.

"Well, prosthetics are fake limbs, that work like real ones. And antibiotics are ... medicine."

Of the future.

"That stops people dying."

"To stop wounds going bad?" he guesses, hopefully, blinking at the idea of fake limbs that actually work.

"Yeah! Exactly."

She isn't sure, but that sounds about right.

"But all you need do to stop a wound going bad is keep it properly clean. Everyone knows that."

"...yes, but drugs help."

Stop using your logic at her! She doesn't know very much!

"Lots. Like, it's way easier. And once they've gone bad sometimes we can fix them."

"...that must be a relief to many. And a fine thing for your armies."

"Totally," Steph says.

She isn't sure how to respond to the army bit, so she leaves it.

"Saves a lot of lives."

"I would my lord Gaheris could have had your drugs", he says, mostly to himself.

He doesn't actually care much about Gaheris' death, except that it's moved his country one step closer to civil war.

"Perhaps you can bring a healer from here back to your world?" Steph suggests, thoughtful.

"It's too late for my lord Gaheris", he says with a shake of his head. "He took a wound from Sir Bedwyr, and left it untreated."

While in hiding, but eh. Details.

"Oh. I'm - I'm sorry."

Ulfin shrugs, expressionless.

"I would never say this where my lord king could hear it, but the man is no loss. His death will bring trouble, however."

"...oh. Then I'm sorry, in a different way."

"Thank you. With a little luck, it may still be averted."

"I hope you have that luck, then." She rises, tucking the book into her pocket. "I gotta go upstairs - I'm grounded, and I totally have a curfew now, which pretty much sucks. Brothers, huh."

He chuckles.

"So you do have someone who looks after you?"

"He doesn't count!" Steph scowls. "He can only ground me because he's stronger." Her expression shows what she thinks of that. "He doesn't look after me, he just - randomly decided to tell me what I can and can't do."

"Which is the role of an older brother, for a girl who has no father. Or part of it."

She wrinkles her nose. "It'd be okay if he'd been doing it all along, maybe. But he just - showed up, and took charge, last week."

"You mean he only found this place last week, not that he purposely neglected you until then."